Goodnight Butterfly

Goodness, so many reviews! 8D Thank you all so much!
I have 14 chapters of this written, so getting it all up-to-date here might take a while XD If you'd rather, you can read all of it archived on my fanfiction.net profile of the same name.

Now, on to chapter 5. Seimei's reaction to Soubi and Ritsuka's encounter, a visit to the doctor's office, and insight on Soubi's past (my version of it, at least XD I'm probably horrible inaccurate)

Yay! :3

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sparkling angel, I believe
You are my savior, in my time of need
Blinded by my faith, I couldn’t hear
All the whispers, the warnings so clear

Soubi wasn’t sure if it was all just in his head, but the fluorescent lights made him feel weak. He shifted his muscles slightly and picked absentmindedly on the small puncture wound he had made in his arm. If the hospital personnel thought this small, insignificant wound was the reason he needed a tetanus shot, he would be home free. But the skin around the tiny cut itched like mad, and it took willpower to keep from itching the wound itself. He made tiny patterns around the cut with his flawless fingernails, trying to stop the maddening tickle.

“You shouldn’t pick at that, Sou-chan,” Kio said from beside him, looking up from the magazine he had been reading. The smell of his strawberry lollipop (his favorite flavor for the week) was somewhat comforting, a small piece of the world outside the doctor’s office. He hated these places. “It could get infected.”

“Sorry, Kio,” Soubi said, complying to his friend’s wishes and smiling at him. He had been mothering Soubi since they were four years old. Kio had been his third parent even before his mother and father had died.

Even now, years later and sitting under the blinding lights of a doctor’s office waiting room, Soubi could still remember that night clearly. He could remember the way the rain had looked, sliding down the windows of the car, the way the windshield wipers flew across the glass so fast they were a blur. The cold, tan leather of the backseat against his palms and the glare of headlights. Smashing glass, pounding rhythm of his heartbeat, blackness. And then waking up in a cold car in the darkness, everything around him shadows. The way his left arm had hurt with a blinding intensity, and how he hadn’t been able to lift it. And his parents, who would not answer him no matter how hard he called to them, motionless lumps in the front seat, their blood smeared across the windshield.

It had taken Soubi great effort with his one working arm to get out of his seatbelt, to crawl into the front seat. He couldn’t absorb the fact that his parents were dead. All he could process was getting out of that car, away from the stagnant aroma of death and leather. Up the hill, where the person who had hit them was certainly not waiting, down the road in the pouring rain. Five years old, always rational, with change in his pocket. To the nearest payphone to do the only thing he knew how to do at that moment… call his mother’s old friend whose number he had memorized, had seen it written on a scrap of old paper beneath his parents’ bed on countless occasions when he crawled under it to hide from Kio when they played games. Ritsu Minami.

Ritsu Minami was cold, solemn, and mostly wordless. But he did offer Soubi the only semblance of comfort he would receive that night. He stood, tall and silent like a giant beside the small boy, and kept a hand on his shoulder. Soubi swallowed the comfort like air, unable to cry, just able to cling, to crawl under the tall man’s jacket to escape the rain and hold desperately onto his leg with his good arm. Ritsu’s hand rested heavily on his head, but it was warm, a barrier against the cold.

“Are you alright?” he could remember Ritsu asking, peering down at him from behind glasses (“Just like Kio”, he had thought). And all Soubi could do was nod a bit and bury his face in the leg of Ritsu’s pants. Ritsu stayed with him until the ambulance arrived for Soubi, and then he disappeared into the rain.

In the hospital, Soubi was aware of nothing but the pain in his arm, could barely remember anything in the world but that moment, and felt as though he was falling into a place absent from all memories, from all reality, a place where he was hopelessly lost. He was numb, could react to nothing, and the painkillers advanced the effect even more, to the point where he simply felt like a zombie, unaware of everything. The feeling persisted through the night, where he lay awake, unable to function, must less sleep. The cast on his arm felt huge, bulky, and its itchiness was the only thing he was able to absorb.

He felt that way, empty and lifeless, until the next morning when a frantic Kio and his mother came by to visit. Soubi was able to feel again then, and he clung to Kio and finally cried, feeling the cold push of glasses against his cheek and the warmth of Kio against.

“It’s okay, Sou-chan,” Kio had told him, even though he had been crying too. “It’s okay, I promise.” Soubi knew Kio had no idea if it was going to be okay or not, but hearing him saying those words and feeling him pet his hair with the tenderness one petted a kitten somehow made it better. And so he stayed in that embrace, knowing if he did, nothing could ever harm him.

Soubi had lived with Kio and his mother for the next two years, and then eventually had been taken by Ritsu to Shichisei Gakuin to begin his training as a Sentouki. And he had managed to push away the feelings of loneliness and helplessness by throwing himself into the turbulence of his own life… first the mad joyous times that he and Kio had shared after he’d moved to his house, then the rigorous and often painful training to become a Sentouki, and now the chaos of actually being a Sentouki. And whenever those feelings returned, he would go back to that moment, to that time when nothing could touch him… to those quiet whispers of “it’s okay, Sou-chan”.

“Sou-chan?”

Soubi jumped, looking around in surprise. The bright florescent lights and Kio’s concerned face met his eyes. In the waiting room of the doctor’s office. Away from his memories and that darkness…

“Yes, Kio?”

“Oh, you’re awake.” Kio said, rubbing Soubi’s head and grinning. “You were just staring off into space… I was getting worried.”

Soubi smiled slightly. “I’m fine, Kio. Thank you.”

“Agatsuma Soubi?” a soft, cheerful voice inquired, and Soubi looked up to see a smiling nurse standing in the waiting room doors, looking around. He raised his hand slightly in acknowledgement and stood up, walking over to the nurse and adjusting the neck of the black turtleneck he wore to hide the bandages around his neck more securely.

“That’s me,” he told her, giving her a friendly smile. Though since the night his parents had died he couldn’t stand medical facilities, he had memories of how kind the nurses had been to him, and he couldn’t help but feel a secret allegiance with them even now.

“Right this way,” the nurse told him, smiling back. Soubi was aware of Kio walking beside him as he followed the nurse, and couldn’t hold back a smile. Kio was always so worried about him, even now when he was going to get a simple shot. They headed down a sterile-looking hallway and into a room on the left side toward the end. “You’re lucky… the doctor is in his office right now, so you won’t have to wait.” she pushed open the door. “Doctor Ieyasu… Agatsuma Soubi is here.” having announced them, she showed them inside and waved them off with a cheery smile as she headed back down the hallway.

Soubi closed the door behind he and Kio and stepped farther into the room. The doctor was at a desk, checking some things on an entrance sheet. At their arrival, he turned in his swivel chair to face them and gave them a welcoming smile.

“Agatsuma Soubi, is it? Come in and have a seat,” he told them, adjusting his glasses. Soubi froze. Something about that gesture made his blood run cold. The doctor was young… he looked to be in his mid-thirties, and his demeanor was sunny, welcoming. But what registered in Soubi’s mind was how much he reminded him of his sensei. His hair was pale blond, clipped neatly to his chin, unlike Soubi’s own shaggy hair. He wore a pair of thin, tasteful glasses, and the way he clicked his pen methodically a few times before setting it on the desk reminded him of Ritsu too.

“Sou-chan? Are you okay?” Kio asked him. “You just lost all the color in your face.”

“Yes…” Soubi said softly. “I’ll be alright. I’m sorry.”

“Do you need to sit down, Soubi?” Doctor Ieyasu asked him, his tone soothing. “We can talk about the shot for a few minutes before we start if you’re too nervous.”

At this, Soubi breathed a sigh of relief. This man was nothing like his former sensei. He smiled. “No, that’s alright. I was… a little worried for a moment there, but I think I’m ready for the shot now.” he slid himself up onto the examination table and took a seat, letting his legs dangle over the edge. “Thank you.”

The threat of an emotional collapse was once again passed, but Soubi, somewhere inside, was severely shaken at his own reaction, and it made him feel uneasy.

He had never known he was still so fragile.

XXX

“What happened to you in there, Sou-chan?” Kio asked Soubi curiously as the two neared Soubi’s house. Kio was sucking a grape lollipop this time, and the small sound of him sucking it lightly was familiar, comforting. “I’ve never seen you afraid of something like a shot before.”

Soubi shrugged, examining his own cherry lollipop as though it was extremely interesting, taking in the curve of the small red sphere, gleaming like a ruby with his own saliva. The harder he concentrated on it, the easier it was to pretend he was unaffected. “Everyone gets nervous sometimes, Kio.”

“But you don’t… not of things like that, anyway. It’s been years since I’ve seen you react like that to anything. What really happened?”

“Nothing happened, Kio. I was just nervous about the shot. Are you coming over to paint today?” Soubi asked, changing the subject carefully.

“No, I can’t. My grandmother’s making dinner tonight, and I promised I’d help, so I have to get home so we can get started. Hey, do you want to come?” they were on Soubi’s front steps by now, and he was fumbling with his key as Kio spoke. “It could be fun. And I could finally cook for you for once.”

Soubi smiled. He was always making dinner for Kio, and Kio was often livid that Soubi insisted on doing the cooking instead of giving Kio access to his kitchen. “Sure, Kio. That sounds nice.”

“Really? Great! You can come over at seven, okay?”

“Okay. Hey, are you sure your mother won’t mind you inviting me without asking her?”

“Of course not! She misses you, you know, so I’m sure she’ll love to have you over.”

“Alright, then. I’ll come by at seven,” it was then that Soubi realized he hadn’t been able to get the door unlocked because it was unlocked in the first place, and chuckled at his own idiocy.

“And don’t bring a gift this time, Sou-chan. It’s embarrassing,” Kio said, pointing a finger at his friend. “We’re like your family… none of us act that formal with you.”

Soubi smiled and shook his head. “It’s not formal, Kio, just polite.”

Kio sighed. “Well… don’t be polite, then! God, Sou-chan, sometimes I wonder if you’re even really a teenager at all!”

“That’s right, Kio, I’m secretly thirty.” Soubi opened the door. “I’ll see you at seven, and I won’t bring a gift, okay?”

“Okay,” Kio said skeptically. He leaned forward and hugged his friend tightly, and Soubi gave him a one-armed hug so we wouldn’t get his lollipop in Kio’s hair and rubbed affectionately at the yellow locks.

“I’ll see you later, Kio. I can’t wait to taste your cooking.”

“Bye, Sou-chan!” Kio waved and bounded down the steps. Soubi laughed and waved, and then turned and went inside, slipping the cherry lollipop back into his mouth.

There was something odd about the air of his home… something different from the way it usually felt. It was as though some outside presence, something unfamiliar, had intruded into this secluded, private world of his. There was still the bright afternoon sun gleaming against every surface, the pale, warm wood, the simple furnishings, his easel still in place. Bur something still wasn’t quite right. He let his jacket slide from his shoulders and slipped it onto its hook beside the door, looking around for any possible cause of the feeling of intrusion. And there it was, on his sofa.

“Seimei?” Soubi adjusted the collar of his turtleneck.

“Hello, Soubi.” the teenager looked remarkably dangerous, and Soubi stopped in his tracks, feeling himself probed blissfully by that dark, beautiful stare. Seimei’s eyes, those dark, gorgeous eyes, were his world, and he could feel himself reflected in them in that moment as his Sacrifice’s stare bared down on him. At times like these, he loved the feeling of complete possession. He longed for nothing more than to be completely owned by this boy sitting and staring moodily at him from the sofa.

“I didn’t know you would be here…” he said clumsily, the words lacking his usual flowing grace. Seimei rarely came to Soubi’s house… he preferred to only see him at his own home. It was so startling to see him here… in a place he usually only saw Kio, where the stress and joy of being Seimei’s rarely was this real, and it set him off balance, his usual equilibrium shattered.

“I had to come… I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“What is it, Seimei?” something about the way those eyes flashed as he spoke made him wonder about what could possibly have made him this intense.

“It’s concerning my brother.”

“You mean Ritsuka…”

“Of course I mean Ritsuka. I know you met him, Soubi.” Seimei stood and was moving over to Soubi. He was frozen in place, breathless with wonder at the shrinking distance between them. “And I know… I know you let him touch you.” he reached his destination, and with a suddenness that dazed the Sentouki he reached out a hand and grabbed Soubi roughly by the throat. He gagged, unable to breathe.

“Seimei…” he croaked, clawing at the Sacrifice’s hand as he squeezed tighter.

“I will not have you soiling my brother with your filth,” Seimei spat. “You are not allowed to touch him. Not now, not ever. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes,” Soubi gagged. Seimei squeezed harder.

“No one touches my brother but his family. This world is contaminated by a filth you can’t see, you can’t feel, but it’s still there. And I will not allow it to ruin him.”

Soubi dug his nails desperately into the hand around his throat, squeezing hard enough to match the pressure of those long, impossibly strong fingers. His nails finally broke the skin, and blood pooled around their tips, staining the smooth nails crimson. Seimei didn’t seem to notice, and his grip on Soubi’s throat did not yield. The Sentouki began to feel lightheaded, desperate for air, and he struggled urgently against his Sacrifice.

“Seimei… please…” he whimpered, though it came out as a gurgle.

“Clean up your own blood next time,” Seimei snapped, and his grip released just as suddenly as it had come. Soubi choked for air, clutching his throat. Seimei watched him passively as he breathed heavily, finally catching his breath and straightening, looking his beautiful Sacrifice in the eye. “Have I taught you a lesson?” the younger asked smoothly.

“Yes, of course, Seimei,” Soubi whispered, lowering his eyes.

“Good.”

Soubi looked up at his Sacrifice, who was still watching him, that flame still dancing in his dark irises. The sight of that teenager looking so ferocious and possessive lit that desperate fire inside of Soubi once more, and the proximity of his body so close intensified it even further. Seimei’s eyes met his, and that feeling, that need, that love, grew even stronger yet. It was reaching its peak, after this year they had spent as master and servant, and there was no container for it, no way to lessen its force. And as all things, it needed an outlet. Badly. And Soubi could wait no longer to give it one. His hands shook as he moved them, as he took the front of Seimei’s soft shirt and pulled him closer to fill the small distance between them, and even more as he crushed his lips against those of his Sacrifice.

Seimei attempted to pull back at first; Soubi knew he would. He had anticipated this and wrapped his arms around the other, holding him close, feeling the warm struggling of his body, the delicious heat of his lips that quivered and attempted to evade his. But there had been far too much waiting, far too much loneliness, and Soubi would not allow him to escape. Soubi was much stronger than Seimei, and for once it worked to his advantage. He cradled his lips carefully against Seimei’s, taking care to memorize their heat, their silkiness, there very existence, before he teased them open slightly with his own, feeling the slight wetness brush his lips and making him shudder deliciously.

Seimei made muffled protests against his lips, still struggling in Soubi’s arms. But Soubi knew that Seimei’s body could only hold out for so long without responding, and he pressed onward, relishing the warmth and softness of Seimei’s mouth, nibbling insistently at his lower lip, and finally running the tip of his tongue against those lips, tasting Seimei for the first time.

Seimei’s taste made Soubi weak, and he pushed his tongue further, letting it slide slowly into the hollow of that wonderful mouth, and then finally licking at the curve of Seimei’s tongue. For this, he was rewarded by Seimei giving an inadvertent groan. It further fueled the Sentouki’s intensity, and his hand slid up Seimei’s back to tangle itself in Seimei’s hair, which was impossibly soft, heaven to his fingers. And then Seimei’s tongue was pushing back, and they were tangled in the kiss, its heat growing, Soubi clutching at him hard and rubbing lovingly, madly at his hair.

Seimei was reacting, was kissing him. Soubi had never imagined that this would come to pass, and he had never imagined he could feel such a feverish longing for any one person as he did for this master of his. Seimei’s hands were holding the front of his shirt… almost touching him back. Soubi’s hands, on the other hand, were exploring Seimei’s back through his shirt, luxuriating in the delicious curve of his Sacrifice’s spine, the pure, wonderful heat he felt through the thin material. That tongue… that wonderful tongue. It was pure joy and madness, and Soubi was held irresistibly by its complete power, by is subtle taste that was purely Seimei, and by the fact that now Seimei was the one shuddering, was the one that was being driven mad by the other. It was wonderful, pure happiness. And it was short-lived.

Seimei pulled back then, shaking, his usual composure broken and that side he usually only showed when he was extremely sleep-deprived showing through. His face was flushed a brilliant shade of strawberry pink, and Soubi smiled at how beautiful his Seimei looked, standing there with a look of complete shock at his own actions, the telltale signs of his reaction to their fierce tangle still there.

“I need to go,” he said in a businesslike manner, looking at anything but Soubi as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

“See you tomorrow, Seimei,” Soubi said brightly before the door shut behind the other teenager.

Soubi wasn’t sure whether he had helped things or only created more distance between them, but at the moment, he didn’t care. Smiling stupidly, he hummed to himself as he picked up his paintbrush, knowing that just for today, things were finally going smoothly.